


Assorted Drabbles

by erolyn2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:50:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erolyn2/pseuds/erolyn2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short works (mostly from prompts on tumblr) that didn't have a place elsewhere. Characters/ships will be added as they appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mrstater requested mad!Dany interacting with Jorah. Post-ADWD.

By the time he finally sees her again, it is too late.

Everyone - Ser Barristan, the Dothraki, Missandei, everyone - tells him not to go to her; her bloodriders say she is more volatile than her brother ever was, that she sees conspiracies in every direction, that the last person who can survive her wrath is the man she named “traitor” while her mind was still fresh.

But Jorah no longer cares for survival, or for the opinions of men. He must see it himself, and if she is as they say then it is best to die, for he cannot live and not serve her, and he cannot serve a madwoman.

“Jorah?”

She remembers his name, at least.

Daenerys uncurls and rises from the stone floor. There is a bed, albeit a thin one, in the corner of the dungeon cell, but she seems to have chosen not to use it. He bites back his fury that they would leave her in a place like this, and remembers Barristan Selmy’s words.

_The dragons were out of control, burning both armies, slaves and slavers alike, without discretion. She tried to tame them, I think - I think she tried, but only Greyjoy’s horn could stop them, and when the sound brought them crashing down to earth it warped her mind as well. She has attacked everyone who comes near, she screams of fire and blood and cries for her children, and will hear no one who tells her they are gone. She is not Daenerys. Not any longer._

But she _knows_ him. How can she not be Daenerys, if she knows his face?

“My bear,” she smiles - how can she be dangerous? - as she approaches him. “I have missed you so. Have you come to rescue me?”

Jorah knows for certain, then, that it isn’t her. She would never speak him sweetly like this if she remembered what he’d done; all that her affection means is that the Queen he fought and bled for is no more than an addled girl now.

And yet he hears himself say “yes”, and folds her in his arms, and promises to take her far, far away from this place.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aboynamedhsu requested Dany and Aemon meeting. AU (obviously) from AFFC.

They are told a great battle took place here only weeks ago, that the piles of pale, charred bricks were once great pyramids before the dragons came. It is hard for Sam to believe when the streets are so quiet, but Maester Aemon stands a little taller at the mention of dragons and he keeps his mouth shut.  _We ought to be in Oldtown_ , he thinks, yet he found it impossible to refuse Aemon’s heartfelt pleas to be taken to the last of his kin.  _Thank god he has lasted long enough to see her._

When they ask to see the queen, they are brought to a pyramid that is nearly whole but for burns along its sides and a large chunk missing from the top. They wait in the hall until the doors open and a bald Ghisgari man leads them into a wide, sparsely decorated room with an ebony bench at its far end. A girl sits there, smaller and younger than Gilly, dressed in what Sam can only assume are riding clothes, of leather and sandsilk.

“What does she look like, Sam?” Aemon begs. “Tell me.”

“Silver hair. Violet eyes. Small, but confident.” Now, as they get closer, he can see it. “Regal. Powerful. A queen.” Sam has never seen a Queen, only paintings in history books of beautiful, towering women in gilded robes. This girl is beautiful, yes, but otherwise nothing like the Targaryen queens in his books...and yet she looks more like them than anyone he could possibly imagine.

“She looks like a dragon,” he whispers to Aemon, feeling the old man tremble with anticipation.

“You are Westerosi.” A statement, not a question, from the girl -  _woman_ \- upon the bench.

“I am Samwell Tarly, if it please your grace,” he answers, “a man of the Night’s Watch.”

She nods. “And your companion?”

Sam begins an introduction, but Aemon speaks first.

“I am a Maester of the Citadel. I have served the Night’s Watch for more than half a hundred years, but before that I was called Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar and brother to King Aegon, fifth of his name, who sired your grandfather, King Jaehaerys the second.”

The entire court is silent. The white-haired knight at the queen’s side is pale and gaping, as is Daenerys herself. 

“I have traveled far to reach you, Daenerys Stormborn, second of your name, and I will not live to travel again. I only ask that I might speak with you, and know your face.”

All is silent again for a long time, and then the queen speaks.

“Leave us.” Her voice is quieter even than Aemon’s, and no one in the hall moves. “All of you.  _Leave us.”_

The courtiers file out, followed by the guards, and last of all the two knights standing closest to the queen, both past the prime of youth and both, Sam notes, of Westerosi blood. One, the younger, wears a cloak pin shaped like a black bear.  _It looks like the sigil of House Mormont_ , Sam thinks,  _I wonder if he knows the Old Bear’s son._ They both hesitate until the queen touches each on the arm, and finally they step down from the dais to follow the rest. 

The white-haired knight claps Sam on the shoulder as he passes. “You too, Tarly,” he orders, “I have much to ask of you.”

“Go on, Sam,” Aemon urges, still facing Daenerys.

Sam turns back just once, and sees the young queen’s fingers brush Maester Aemon’s face before the doors slam shut behind him.


End file.
